A newly constructed barrow stood waiting, on a wide headland
close to the waves, its entryway secured.
The barrow was constructed recently near the shore, waves near, and secured.
Into it the keeper of the hoard had carried
all the goods and golden ware
worth preserving. His words were few:
There, the guardian of the treasure had carried all the goods and gold. He spoke a few words:
“Now, earth, hold what earls once held
and heroes can no more; it was mined from you first
by honourable men. My own people
have been ruined in war; one by one
“Earth, now hold what the nobles have held because heroes cannot. It was from you that the prestigious men took it. My clansmen were ruined in battle; one by one
they went down to death, looked their last
on sweet life in the hall. I am left with nobody
to bear a sword or burnish plated goblets,
put a sheen on the cup. The companies have departed.
they were killed, and their joy in the hall was also taken. I have no one to hold the sword or polish the coated goblet, add brightness on the chalice. The parties are dead.
The hard helmet, hasped with gold,
will be stripped of its hoops; and the helmet-shiner
who should polish the metal of the war-mask sleeps;
The adamant helmet, inlaid with gold, will shed its plating; and the polisher who ought to varnish the mask of battle sleeps;
the coat of mail that came through all fights,
through shield-collapse and cut of sword,
decays with the warrior. Nor may webbed mail
range far and wide on the warlord’s back
beside his mustered troops. No trembling harp,
The armor that came through the battles, among the clash of shields and incision of sword, rusts with the bearer. That mail can no longer travel with the hero’s side and his summoned group. No sound from harp,
no tuned timber, no tumbling hawk
swerving through the hall, no swift horse
pawing the courtyard. Pillage and slaughter
have emptied the earth of entire peoples.”
No adjusted wood, no hawk flies through the hall, no quick horse pawing the yard. Battle and murders have bared the people’s ground.”
And so he mourned as he moved about the world,
deserted and alone, lamenting his unhappiness
day and night, until death’s flood
brimmed up in his heart.
And he groaned as he walked around the earth, abandoned and isolated, weeping day and night, until death came upon his heart. Then an old harrower of the dark happened to find the hoard open,
the burning one who hunts out barrows,
the slick-skinned dragon, threatening the night sky
with streamers of fire. People on the farms
Then the ancient evil creature found the hoard exposed, the blazing one who hunts out burrow, the sleek dragon, who flies at night with strips of flame. The farmers
are in dread of him. He is driven to hunt out
hoards under ground, to guard heathen gold
through age-long vigils, though to little avail.
are feared by him. He destiny is to go to the hoard underground, to watch heathen gold through many days, though he gains nothing through this.
The Audio
Paraphrase
Original
Paraphrased
A newly constructed
barrow stood waiting, on a wide headland
close to the waves, its entryway secured.
The barrow was constructed recently near the shore, waves near, and secured.
Into it the keeper of the hoard had carried
all the goods and golden ware
worth preserving. His words were few:
There, the guardian of the treasure had carried all the goods and gold. He spoke a few words:
“Now, earth, hold what earls once held
and heroes can no more; it was mined from you first
by honourable men. My own people
have been ruined in war; one by one
“Earth, now hold what the nobles have held because heroes cannot. It was from you that the prestigious men took it. My clansmen were ruined in battle; one by one
they went down to death, looked their last
on sweet life in the hall. I am left with nobody
to bear a sword or burnish plated goblets,
put a sheen on the cup. The companies have departed.
they were killed, and their joy in the hall was also taken. I have no one to hold the sword or polish the coated goblet, add brightness on the chalice. The parties are dead.
The hard helmet, hasped with gold,
will be stripped of its hoops; and the helmet-shiner
who should polish the metal of the war-mask sleeps;
The adamant helmet, inlaid with gold, will shed its plating; and the polisher who ought to varnish the mask of battle sleeps;
the coat of mail that came through all fights,
through shield-collapse and cut of sword,
decays with the warrior. Nor may webbed mail
range far and wide on the warlord’s back
beside his mustered troops. No trembling harp,
The armor that came through the battles, among the clash of shields and incision of sword, rusts with the bearer. That mail can no longer travel with the hero’s side and his summoned group. No sound from harp,
no tuned timber, no tumbling hawk
swerving through the hall, no swift horse
pawing the courtyard. Pillage and slaughter
have emptied the earth of entire peoples.”
No adjusted wood, no hawk flies through the hall, no quick horse pawing the yard. Battle and murders have bared the people’s ground.”
And so he mourned as he moved about the world,
deserted and alone, lamenting his unhappiness
day and night, until death’s flood
brimmed up in his heart.
And he groaned as he walked around the earth, abandoned and isolated, weeping day and night, until death came upon his heart.
Then an old harrower of the dark
happened to find the hoard open,
the burning one who hunts out barrows,
the slick-skinned dragon, threatening the night sky
with streamers of fire. People on the farms
Then the ancient evil creature found the hoard exposed, the blazing one who hunts out burrow, the sleek dragon, who flies at night with strips of flame. The farmers
are in dread of him. He is driven to hunt out
hoards under ground, to guard heathen gold
through age-long vigils, though to little avail.
are feared by him. He destiny is to go to the hoard underground, to watch heathen gold through many days, though he gains nothing through this.